


Jailbait

by HalfwayToHell



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- Jail, Alternate Universe- Juvenile Detention, Blood, Derogatory Language, Fights, Homophobic Language, M/M, School Shootings, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfwayToHell/pseuds/HalfwayToHell
Summary: After being accused of plotting the next Columbine shooting, seventeen-year-old Jared is sent to three months at Travis County Juvenile Detention Center in Austin, Texas in order to await his court hearing. Frightened and convinced he is innocent, Jared tries to become a fly on the wall to avoid any problems, but conflict and misfortune always seems to find him when he catches the attention of another seventeen-year-old boy named Jensen, who he later learns has been in the detention center for five years prior to his own arrival. High on sex, blood, and violence, the two juveniles will learn the heavy weight of what freedom actually costs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few quick disclosures:
> 
> 1\. Underage: Although Jensen and Jared are seventeen in this fic, they are still considered underage. So please keep that in mind.  
> 2\. In order to avoid any spoilers, I will be updating the tags as I go along. That being said, for your own safety, please, please, PLEASE check the tags before you decide to read a chapter. Be responsible for yourself.  
> 3\. This is a work of fiction and the depiction of the juvenile detention centers and how one is treated there is merely fictitious (although based on documentaries, violence is prevalent in juvenile centers).

                                                       

* * *

 

It all started with a story of revenge.

 

And that was all it was: a story.

 

But it was made clear that even a story could get out of hand and cause a community-wide panic. It was his tale of revenge that had awoken young Jared in the middle of the night when the SWAT team broke down his family’s front door. It was his tale of revenge that resulted in him being violently ripped from his bed and thrown to the floor where his face was pressed hard into the carpet and his arms forced behind his back. It was his tale of revenge that landed him in handcuffs and detained in the Austin, Texas county jail.

 

The interrogation room in which Jared was being held, was just like the room he had seen on every single procedural cop show: white cement walls, one lone metal table with only two metal chairs as its company and the two-way plexiglass in front of him. But there were quite a few things that were quite different than the television exposed. The horrendous buzzing from the fluorescent light above him was causing a deep ache to root itself to his temples and the room was horribly cold, his teeth began to chatter and his entire body shook—the cold of the metal handcuffs around his wrists in front of him hadn’t helped.

 

The seventeen-year-old was uncertain how long he had been sitting in the interrogation room—for all he knew, it could have been hours or maybe even minutes—before the door to his left opened and a man wearing a suit stepped into the room with him. Given the grim look on his face and the case file in his hand, Jared highly doubted it was a lawyer.

 

“Hello, Mr. Padalecki,” The older man greeted him as he came to stand across the table from him, placing the case file onto the table. “My name is Detective Nelson, but you may call me Rob if you’d like. Do you understand why you’re here?”

 

Jared couldn’t honestly understand why nor could he even imagine up something that would’ve landed him there. He shook his head slowly.

 

Detective Nelson grimaced. “I see. Well perhaps this might help,” He offered as he opened the file, removing a slender black Composition book from it to hold it out for Jared to see and his heart immediately dropped into his stomach at the sight. “Do you know what this is?”

 

“My notebook,” He replied softly and he could feel all heat leave his body as he continued to stare at the book in the man’s hand. Jared swallowed thickly before he continued. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

“No?” Detective Nelson inquired with a raise of his graying eyebrow as he opened the notebook and read from the first page. “ _Noon would be the time to do it. The entire student body will be crammed into a four-walled coffin like a can of sardines—sitting prey. Two Colt .45’s would be my weapon of choice. Tyler Benson, that preening, prick of a peacock would be my first kill. His girlfriend, Claire Glascock, that groupie skank would be the next to go. Then once the life from their eyes has faded, I will paint the entire cafeteria red with the blood of all those who have hurt me—wronged me. This will be my tale of revenge,_ ” –-At this, the man slapped the book down onto the table, causing the seventeen-year-old to jump— “Tell me, Jared. Who has caused you so much pain, that you would consider killing another person?”

 

“It’s a story. I wasn’t going to kill anyone. Mrs. Wright--”

 

“Who is Mrs. Wright?”

 

“My school counselor,” Jared replied quietly, his voice flat to keep the shaking from reaching his tone. “She told me when I’m angry or upset, to write down how I feel. I was just taking her professional advice.”

 

“I don’t think writing down how you would kill your fellow classmates constitutes as expressing your emotions in a healthy manner,” Detective Nelson said sternly.

 

Jared glanced down at his hands folded on the table in front of him, the bile rising in his throat and his eyes started to sting with the threat of tears. He should have known better than to write how he truly felt down and as he sat there in silence with the chill brushing against his skin and the light buzzing above him, Jared could only wish he could go back to the day he had wrote that in his notebook because given the chance, he would’ve burned it.

 

There came a resigned sigh from the man and when he spoke this time, his tone was much gentler, “Tell me about these boys, Jared,” The detective asked and the seventeen-year-old raised his eyes as the man approached him with a cellphone in his hand, showing him the screen.

 

The scene unfolding in front of him caused Jared to reach down and grip tightly at his stomach, pain radiating throughout his body as he watched.

 

There was a group of four boys—all of them taller and with a muscular body mass—surrounding another boy in the center of the circle, who was lanky dressed in a black hoodie. Cruel, mocking laughter came from the boys as they violently shoved and hit and slammed the boy in the black hoodie down onto the grass, trying to egg the other boy on with litanies of, “Come on, _faggot_. Fight back” and “Cry, _faggot_ , cry” accompanied by the boy who was recording all of this on his cellphone who said, “Kick his ass, Tyler”. The boy in the black hoodie curled up into a tight ball, protecting his face as the other boys landed blow after blow on his shaking body, a few cries of pain coming from the victim.

 

Toward the end of the clip, the boy named Tyler reached down and grabbed the kid by his shaggy hair and wrenched his head back so that his friend who was recording could get a perfect shot of Jared as blood dripped from his nose and dark bruises kissed his face and there were tears of pain in his kaleidoscope gaze.

 

“That’s--” Jared cleared his throat, his words catching. “That’s Tyler and some of his friends.”

 

The expression in Detective Nelson’s eyes caused an ache in Jared’s heart as the man looked down at him with remorse. “I can understand why you hate them, Jared. I would hate them too after what they did.”

 

“I don’t hate them,” replied the young boy softly. “but they clearly hate me.”

 

“Is it true what they said?” Detective Nelson asked, the gentleness still in his tone. “Are you homosexual, Jared?”

 

The seventeen-year-old gave a bitter scoff. “And if I was? Does that give them the right to beat the shit out of me because of something I have no control over?”

 

“I’m not saying that, Jared. I absolutely don’t believe what they did was right by any means and I can’t imagine what you have to endure every day at school--”

 

“No. You can’t,” Jared cut in, the tone in his voice sharp and acrimonious. “You have no idea what it feels like to be one of the few openly gay kids in the _great_ fuckin’ state of Texas.”

 

The detective was quiet for a moment as he looked Jared over with wise, blue eyes that held a much greater capacity for sorrow than anyone else had shown him since he was arrested.

 

“I don’t believe you meant any of it, Jared. I don’t believe you really would have killed anyone, but you _must_ understand the system. This is bigger than just you and I—you’ve shaken up an entire community, Jared. Parents, teachers, students. The Channel 5 News outside is calling it the future plot of the next Columbine. The community is asking for your head over this one.”

 

“How can they prosecute me? I didn’t do anything wrong!” Jared cried, his eyes stinging once more from the threat of tears and the tone in his voice pitched an octave in fear. “Are they really going to send me to jail over something I stupidly wrote in my notebook?”

 

“I’m afraid that’s what the community wants,” Detective Nelson admitted with a nod. “but if you plead guilty to the accusations, I can guarantee that you won’t become imprisoned, Jared. You’re a minor. The most any county judge can do is give you a slap on the wrist and maybe even a few months house arrest to make sure you aren’t going to be a threat to the community.”

 

“And if I don’t?” Jared asked quietly, although the sick feeling in his gut told him that he already knew the answer.

 

“Then you will have no choice but to wait in juvenile detention for the next few months until you receive a court hearing and that will give the prosecutors time to build a case against you. Trust me, Jared, you don’t want that, because their goal is to get you tried as an adult. If I was you, I would take the guilty plea while you still have the chance,” The older man said and there was an underlying petition in his tone.

 

Jared knew he should’ve listened to Detective Nelson because it was made apparent that he was the only person who believed him and saw him as innocent, but Jared just couldn’t bring himself to lie. Either the community was going to have to prosecute him for telling the truth or let him off the hook for lying. Jared couldn’t bring himself to agree with either ultimatum.

 

“I want a lawyer,” The seventeen-year-old requested after a long moment of silence.

 

⤫  ⤬  ⤫  ⤬

 

Soon after his request, Jared found himself handcuffed and escorted out of the county jail via an armored van. The ride over to Travis County Juvenile Detention Center was a long, cold, and lonely one. Jared rested his head against the side of the vehicle as he swayed back and forth and his head smacked against the metal side each time the armored van hit a pothole—which was every few feet.

 

The whole ride over, Jared felt empty, numb. Void of any kind of emotion. He was his own Jared sized black hole in the center of the universe, but even though he felt invalid, the tears that wanted to fall kept stinging his eyes and Jared had to tip his head back and blink them away. He refused to cry—to break. The last thing he wanted, was to arrive at the juvenile center with red eyes and a running nose from bawling. Jared figured he could save his tears for later that night when he was alone and in bed.

 

The van stopped suddenly to announce their arrival at their destination and Jared took in a deep breath, steadying himself. The back door opened and the corrections officer grabbed him firmly by the upper arm—but not enough to cause pain—and escorted him into the building. Once they passed the main door of the facility, the officer stopped and removed the handcuffs from Jared’s wrists. They began the process of taking his fingerprint, snapping a photo for his file, and filling out information in their system. The entire process only took about twenty minutes before Jared was ushered past another door where they reached a room in what appeared to be rather similar to a shower room—minus the shower heads.

 

A heftier corrections officer stood with his hands folded in front of them, blue latex gloves on.

 

“Step over to the line,” The man instructed and Jared walked toward the white line taped onto the ground. “Remove your shoes.”

 

The seventeen-year-old did as he was instructed in a series of orders. After he was done removing his shoes, he would remove his socks, then his shirt, then his jeans. Jared would then be instructed to open his mouth so that the corrections officer could make sure he did not sneak anything in and then came the part that he had been dreading: the cavity search. He would never understand how this was a moral procedure and although many would swear up and down that it helped prevent criminals from sneaking in weapons or any other contraband, all it did was leave Jared embarrassed and uncomfortable. The officer had been a little _too_ rough and a little _too_ thorough, causing a hiss of discomfort to pass through Jared’s teeth and an aching whine to come from the back of his throat.

 

Once they finished, the man handed Jared a bright orange jumper with TRAVIS COUNTY in big, bold letters on the back of it with a pair of white slip on shoes and a black tank top. The fabric was itchy against his skin and Jared had to adjust the jumper multiple times before it would sit comfortably on his body. The corrections officer then handed him a blue cotton blanket with a single pillow and another jumper.

 

“Laundry is done every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday. The extra jumper is for your laundry days,” The man explained to him as he escorted Jared down a few twisting and turning corridors. “Breakfast is served every morning from eight to nine. Lunch is from noon to one and dinner is five to six. We expect you to be in your assigned cell at ten o’clock with the lights out—which for you is 15B. Counselor meetings and group discussions, as well as yard time, will be discussed once you receive your official schedule. Do you have any questions?” The corrections officer asked, stopping at a door to glance in Jared’s direction.

 

The young man shook his head. Even if he had a question, his tongue had become cemented to the roof of his mouth and he found the boulder-sized lump in his throat difficult to swallow.

 

“Then welcome to your stay at Travis County, Mr. Padalecki.” The man opened the door and ushered him through it.

 

On the other side, was a room full of other teenage boys in the same orange jumper as himself. There was a TV mounted on the wall with a few chairs placed in front of it. To the far right of the room was a pool table with a couch along the wall and on the left, was a corridor that lead down to the cellblock. Jared stood there for a moment, his legs rooted to the cement floor beneath him and he soon became the object of all the boys’ attention.

 

“Looks like we got some fresh meat, boys,” A boy said with a sneer as he leaned on a pool stick, his eyes making a quick scan of Jared’s appearance.

 

“Welcome to the fish tank, dude,” Another boy said as he walked past him to sit on one of the chairs in front of the TV.

 

After a long moment of being dissected by the other teenage men in the room, Jared gradually found the ability to work his legs again as he turned away from the recreational room to walk down the corridor to his left. Cells lined the walls on either side of him as he walked down the hallway, searching for his assigned cell. Jared came to a halt halfway down the hall.

 

Cell 15B was located on his right. The room was small with two cots—one against each wall—and a single desk between the beds. The walls were painted white and made from cement and the beds were only about the size of a twin. One of the beds was already cleanly made with the blanket and sheet tucked under the mattress and Jared could only feel a sense of dread inside of him as he wondered who would be sharing the small living space with him.

 

Jared placed his things onto the metal desk before he turned to work on putting his cot together. There was a sickening twist in his gut as he stared down at the mattress, where there was a large, muddy red stain in the center of the bed. A pool of dried blood. Attempting to not envision what had caused it, Jared flipped the mattress over onto the other side which was stain free—as far as he could tell—and he began to put his bed together.

 

It was not long until after Jared had finished that a boy walked into the room—his new cellmate. The other teenager had not uttered a word to Jared as he took a seat on his own bed and he leaned his back against the wall, a battered copy of George Orwell’s _1984_ in his hands. The seventeen-year-old took the opportunity to look the other boy over.

 

He had short, sandy blond hair with a perfectly symmetrical face and lightly tanned skin. His lashes were long and thick and a few shades darker than the hair on his head and they framed a pair of pine green eyes. Nutmeg freckles dotted his nose and cheeks and the boy looked as though he was the same age as Jared and there was a moment while he was inspecting his new roommate, where Jared found himself wondering what the other boy had done to wind up in the same position he was.

 

Jared took a seat on the edge of his cot so that he was facing the other boy and he cleared his throat nervously, licking his bottom lip before he uttered a faint, “I’m Jared.”

 

The other teenager had not removed his attention from the book in his hands and there was a long moment of tense silence. Jared picked anxiously at the lint on his blanket, biting his bottom lip.

 

“That’s a good book,” Jared tried again lamely and he was pulling straws at this point, trying to urge some kind of interaction out of his new cellmate.

 

“If I wanted to indulge myself in small talk with you, I would have,” responded the boy in a surprisingly cold but sharp tone of voice and the chilled hostility had stunned Jared into silence.

 

It was not long before a corrections officer had called for everyone to return to their cells for the night and he came by each cell one by one to slide the metal door shut, locking them in. Jared crawled beneath the blanket, turning over onto his side so that his back faced the other boy. The same corrections officer called for lights out before the entire cell block was filled with enteral darkness.

 

It was there in the dark cell, covered in the cotton blanket, that Jared finally allowed the tears to fall hot and salty down his cheeks and against his pillow. He bit into the blanket to keep himself from disturbing his cellmate as he cried until his eyes grew heavy and his throat was raw and his lungs burned before he allowed the abyss of sleep to take hold of him.

 

⤫  ⤬  ⤫  ⤬


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his first night, Jared finds himself a friend amongst the sea of orange jumpers and he soon learns that he is in for a long, and dangerous next few months after he draws some lethal attention to himself.

                                                       

* * *

 

Jared had hoped it was all a dream—a nightmare.

 

That was what he was praying for the next morning when his eyes slowly peeled open, greeted by a cement wall and the sound of the metal door sliding open and a corrections officer shouting at the top of his lungs that breakfast was being served in an hour, which could only mean that it was seven in the morning. Jared listened silently for his cellmate to leave, the shuffling of moving blankets and feet against the floor allowed him to know that he was alone once the sounds faded into nothingness.

 

He laid there for a long while, curled up in a fetal position beneath the blanket as he tried to drift back into his dreams because at least there, he felt safe. Jared was unaware how much or how little time had passed but he soon realized that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t will himself to go back to sleep.

 

Just as Jared was pulling himself upright in bed, a corrections officer stopped in the doorway of his cell with a shower caddie in his hand.

 

“If I was you, I would shower before breakfast. Most of the boys typically shower at night,” The man said, holding the caddie out to Jared who rose from his bed to take it from the officer. “Showers are down the hall to your right. Bathroom is to the left.”

 

“Thanks,” Jared replied softly.

 

Gathering up the extra jumper he was given last night, Jared walked down the rest of the corridor until he reached the shower room and it looked just the way that he had suspected. It resembled the showers he had at his high school, only it wasn’t as open, which was a tad surprising. Along each wall, were small stable-like stalls where the walls were only tall enough to come up to about mid-chest and the entrance of the stall was completely open. So, although it provided _some_ privacy, it wasn’t as much as Jared would have liked, but he supposed on the brighter side of the situation, he was currently the only one in the shower room.

 

Jared picked the last shower stall on the right and began to rummage through the shower caddie. Inside, was a bar of soap—which smelled like pine needles—a toothbrush and some mint toothpaste, and two small bottles of shampoo and conditioner, each of them having the similar smell of the soap. Jared quickly undressed, folding his clothes on the outside of the shower and he turned the tap until hot water rushed from the shower head. Water that bordered on the scalding side pelted down on him as he set to work cleaning himself up as quickly and proficiently as possible—the idea of another boy walking in on him not suiting his best interests.

 

As Jared was washing the conditioner out of his hair, he heard a shuffling of feet. The seventeen-year-old turned around a little too quickly and he grappled for the wall of the shower to keep himself from slipping. He stared wide-eyed at the other teenager who had entered the shower room, his heart fluttering like a bird’s wings trapped in the bone cage of his chest cavity.

 

The other boy held up his hands in front of him as he slowly approached the shower stall beside Jared’s, walking in short, calculated steps. He had cropped light brown hair and blue eyes with a faint shadow of scruff on his face but he appeared to be at least seventeen with a young face and he wore the same orange jumper as Jared.

 

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” The other boy began with a kind smile and a light laugh. “You’re the new kid, right?”

 

Jared nodded slowly and he found himself trying to sink into the wall as if he could disappear.

 

“I’m Stephen,” He greeted as he held a hand out to Jared.

 

Cautiously, he reached out a hand to the boy named Stephen, gingerly shaking his hand and replied with a meek, “Jared.”

 

The smile on the other boy’s lips widened. “Nice to meet you, Jared. How was your first night? Given that you’re still in one piece, it doesn’t look like Joey and his disciples got to you yet,” Stephen observed as he started to undress and Jared was glad that the wall separating their shower stalls was tall enough that he couldn’t see anything, but it did not help the heat that was gradually rising on his cheeks.

 

“Joey?” inquired Jared, his brows pulling into a slight v.

 

“Mexican kid with a bad attitude and a few tattoos to match,” Stephen explained as he began to wash his hair, talking over the thundering of the shower. “Or at least half-Mexican—given his white boy name. But if you haven’t met him yet, I am surprised. Joey and his hounds normally introduce themselves the moment they meet a new face, but now that I think about it, it makes sense that Joey would’ve backed off of you for the time being.”

 

“And why’s that?” He asked, finding himself rather surprised at the nonchalant way Stephen was talking about this Joey kid, due to the information he was feeding him and Jared was under the impression that Joey was not the type of person you’d want to get on the bad side of.

 

“You’re Jensen’s cellmate,” Stephen answered as if it was the easiest thing to comprehend. “Joey isn’t scared of much, but I can tell that Jensen scares him—or at least, intimidates him and I don’t blame Joey one bit. There’s something off about that dude.”

 

Jared thought back to the cold hostility that his cellmate had given off the other night and how he had assumed it had to do with the fact that maybe Jensen hadn’t had a cellmate in a long time or maybe he just didn’t like people, but Jared never got the impression that there was something off about Jensen at all, but Jared knew from personal experience, that he wasn’t the best at judging someone’s character after one interaction.

 

“He seems okay,” Jared offered lamely as he shut the shower tap off and began to dress behind the safety of the wall. He glanced up when Stephen gave a loud, disagreeable scoff. “A little moody and off-putting, sure, but he seems okay to me.”

 

Stephen turned off the water and leaned against the wall, raising an eyebrow at Jared and there was a look of incredulity that crossed his facial features but there was a glint of amusement in the blue of his eyes.

 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a shit judgment of character?”

 

“All the time,” Jared mumbled as he slipped his shoes on, silent as Stephen quickly dressed as well. “So, what are you? The welcoming committee?”

 

Stephen gave a playful smirk. “You should be lucky that it was me and not Joey or one of his pets,” He retorted and he threw an arm around Jared’s shoulders, startling him. “Trust me, kid. Making me one of your allies would suit your best interest because not only do I know everything about everyone here, I know how to get you pretty much anything you want—except pussy. If you can’t tell, we’re clearly lacking that.”

 

Jared shook his head at his seemingly new-found friend’s ludicrous comment and he couldn’t help the smile that curled at the corner of his mouth as Stephen—with his arm still draped around his shoulders—escorted him out of the shower room and down the corridor back towards his cell.

 

“If you know so much, what do you know about me?”

 

Stephen stopped then, moving so that he was now in front of Jared and his lips were pursed in thought as his eyes took him in and for a moment, Jared felt as though he was being dissected, that maybe Stephen knew exactly why he was there, which could only mean that perhaps everyone else did too—including Jensen. After a long while, the smile returned to Stephen’s lips.

 

“I’m not sure what you’ve done—or haven’t done, but once I find out, you’ll know, because like I said,” –At this, Stephen started to walk down the hall once more— “I know everything about everyone here.”

 

As he walked down the cellblock, Jared wasn’t sure if he wanted Stephen to know the truth—the real truth behind him being here which only included the truth about the story he wrote in his notebook and how, maybe, he made himself seem more innocent than he really was. And that maybe, it was best, that Stephen never knew, because Jared knew he needed at least one ally—at least one friend and if Stephen knew the truth, that could fuck everything up for him.

 

Jared wasn’t about to let that happen.

 

⤫  ⤬  ⤫  ⤬

 

The cafeteria was a swarm of orange as each teenager sat at the metal tables with their breakfast in front of them, the room filled with the brash cacophony of laughter and talk. Stephen had managed to find them an empty table near the window. Breakfast was a concoction of what appeared to be some kind of oatmeal substance with flax seeds and chopped up apples that appeared to have been cooked into a mush-like consistency.

 

“You’re going to give yourself diabetes with all that sugar,” Jared said as he took a bite of the thick oatmeal, chewing it and he watched as Stephen emptied what had to have been his fifth packet of sweetener into the oatmeal.

 

“I’ll take my chances, Padalecki,” Stephen retorted as he opened two more packets of sugar. “Man, how can you stand to eat that shit? It’s so bland.”

 

Jared gave a humorless laugh. “When you come from a family of health nuts, you learn to eat your shit bland.”

 

“Gross.”

 

A genuine smile curled at the corner of Jared’s mouth and he realized that since this entire nightmare began, this was the first time he had sincerely felt happy, even if it was only a moment. He had to admit it was nice.

 

“So, why are you here, Stephen?” Jared asked, taking another bite of his oatmeal. “I mean, you said you know everything about everyone else, so I figured if you’re gonna know my secret, I should know yours. It’s only fair.”

 

“Fair?” scoffed Stephen and there was a playful glint in his eye. “Whoever said it had to be fair? I just do my homework. Maybe if you put in a little effort, you will one day achieve the same knowledge I have.”

 

Jared rolled his eyes but he still wore his smile. “Never mind.”

 

Suddenly, it was as if a switch had been flipped inside of Stephen because the next time Jared glanced up from his breakfast, Stephen was staring over Jared’s shoulder and there was a flat, expressionless look on his face, but in his eyes, he could see worry.

 

“We need to go, Jared.”

 

“What? Why?” He asked and he went to glance behind him to see what Stephen was looking at, but the other boy reached out and roughly grabbed his wrist, keeping him in place.

 

“Remember when I said that Joey and his hounds are known to introduce themselves?” Stephen hissed beneath his breath, his eyes darting from Jared and back over his shoulder again. “If we don’t get out of here right now--”

 

“Makin’ friends with the new kid, Amell?” A voice asked before a warm body plopped down beside Stephen on his left and Jared knew immediately, that it was too late for them to escape when he felt two other bodies sit beside him on either side—trapping him in. “I’m disappointed in you, Stephen. Shame on you for not introducin’ him to us.”

 

Across the table, was a boy with the face and a smile of a jackal. His hair was black and slicked back away from his face and his eyes were the color of oil. Tattoos decorated his hands and arms and even up around his neck. Jared didn’t have to guess who this boy was because he already knew—Joey. It was the same boy from the other night, the one who was playing pool.

 

“I thought you two already met,” Stephen answered with an edge to his tone, a guarded expression on his face. “Since you make it your sole purpose to be the welcoming committee.”

 

Joey glanced in Jared’s direction and the seventeen-year-old felt his heart drop into his stomach, all warmth leaving his body in that moment. He was sure the other boy could smell his fear in the way he was looking at him with those pitch-black eyes, as if Jared was prey that was waiting to be hunted.

 

“Have you two read the paper today?” Joey asked as he slapped the newspaper down on the table, causing Jared to startle. “We’ve got some interestin’ things happenin’ in the paper. Teen caught with two-hundred pounds of weed who was sentenced to juvenile detention. Another teen was caught takin’ a joy ride in his father’s Bentley and crashed it through a convenience store window—also sentenced to juvenile detention. But, wait, what’s this,” Joey paused to give Jared a cruel smirk and he cleared his throat before he read from the newspaper in front of him. “ _Local Austin teen sentenced to Travis County Juvenile Detention Center after authorities found a book in the teen’s handwriting detailing out his revenge plans to cause a mass school shooting. The minor is still currently awaiting a trial date_ ,” –At this, Joey spun the paper around and pushed it slowly and methodically in Jared’s direction— “So, which one are you? The Grower, the Joy Rider, or Columbine?”

 

In that moment, Jared couldn’t remember a time in which he was more afraid. He was more terrified than having to wake up every day and experience the ignorance at school. He was more frightened than having to walk home every day after school knowing the possibility of Tyler and his friends jumping him on his way home. Jared was so irrevocably horrified, that he stopped breathing and all he could do, was stare at Joey with wide, petrified eyes.

 

The devilish grin on Joey’s lips only grew wider. “You see, I have a theory. You don’t look like a Grower. And Joy Rider? Maybe. You’ve got this punk ass rich white kid look about you. But do you wanna know what I think?” Joey asked, leaning in towards Jared and he licked his bottom lip in anticipation. “I think, you’re Columbine. You look like one of those kids who would shoot up an entire school because you couldn’t stand the fact that you’re a queer. Ain’t that right, Columbine?”

 

Something in Jared snapped. Something like a rubber band being pulled too tight until it couldn’t take the strain anymore. The heat that boiled beneath his skin caused a fire to ignite in his stomach.

 

“Fuck you,” Jared seethed quietly.

 

The other boy blinked for a moment as if he was taken aback momentarily by Jared’s comment and the once devilish grin on his lips gradually faltered. “What did you say, Columbine?”

 

“I said. _Fuck. You._ ”

 

The scene that unfolded next happened in a flurry of scrambling bodies and fists. Joey was up and out of his seat, launching himself at Jared who toppled from his seat and to the ground, the force of it causing the wind to punch out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath before the first blow left pain to bloom across his face, his nose burning. Warm blood dripped down Jared’s nose as he tried to cover his face to protect himself from Joey’s fists, but the blows kept landing on his face and he had tried to buck Joey off of him, but he was sitting right on his chest, trapping him.

 

There were shouts all around Jared and for a moment, he could pick Stephen’s voice out of the crowd, but the sudden loud ringing in his ears from the blow to the side of his head drowned out the only familiar voice in the sea of shouts. And there was a moment, when Jared’s head was turned to the side, where he could see the crowd that had surrounded them, egging them both on. In the crowd, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl at his lips, was Jensen. There was a moment where their eyes had met, but it had been so brief, that Jared couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.

 

Curling his right hand into a fist, Jared punched up blindingly at Joey. He hadn’t expected to land a hit, but as his fist collided with the side of Joey’s jaw, there was a pain radiating down Jared’s hand and just for a moment, even with all the adrenaline running through his body, Jared thought that he had broken a finger or two just from the excruciating agony alone.

 

There was a blur of correction officers as they hauled Joey off of Jared, slamming him down onto the nearest table. Blood stung Jared’s eyes as he rolled over onto his side, trying to wipe it from his eyes and suddenly Stephen was at his side, gingerly cradling his face in his hands, inspecting him.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Jared,” Stephen said, his eyes searching his face. “He really fucked you up. What the hell were you thinking?”

 

“That I’m not going to allow anyone to walk all over me anymore,” replied Jared, wiping at the blood dripping down from his nose. He couldn’t see the damage that Joey had done, but he sure could _feel_ it and the way that Stephen’s eyes filled with concern, Joey must have really done some harm.

 

Stephen shook his head, giving him a light smile as he hauled Jared up and onto his feet, using his arms and body as a crutch for Jared. “I get the feeling, that you’re going to give me a run for my money, Padalecki. Let’s get you to the nurse to see if she can hopefully fix your face.”

 

As Stephen helped Jared out of the cafeteria, there was a moment in which Jared happened to glance up at Jensen, their eyes meeting again. It was only for the briefest moment, but there was something in his cellmate’s eyes that caused a calm heat to rush over his body and numb the pain in his face for only a moment. 

 

⤫  ⤬  ⤫  ⤬


End file.
